Chapter One: The Extremely Odd Girl
Helena Leandros was sat in a cosy café on a bustling city street corner. She was staring out of a steamy window of Boste's Brew, as the café was called, with the alert and anxious expression of someone who had been kept waiting for some time.
Throughout the past week, Helena had stayed up extremely late every single night to finish an essay which was to be handed in on this very same Tuesday morning that our story starts. By the time she had finished the previous night, she was utterly exhausted but confident that she would get another high pass mark to go towards her final qualification.
Helena was two things: a full-time dentistry student at the local university and a young mother of the little girl who was, at that moment, bouncing contentedly on her lap. Helena was slender, olive-skinned, had long, golden brown curly hair. She also bore the distinct blue-purple circles of tiredness around her bloodshot eyes.
Every morning Helena would take the time to read to her daughter, Hermione, and it was her favourite time of day. Helena found it simply magical to watch Hermione absorb each and every word like a treat and see glimmers of understanding sparkle in her eyes.
Hermione was her mother in miniature. She was two years old had burgundy-brown eyes, light olive skin, and a fluffy tuft of chocolate-brown curls which were making every effort to grow up and out, rather than down. Like her mother, Hermione was also looking out of the window but her eyes were hooked onto something that Helena, in her present anxiety, had not yet noticed.
Helena adored her daughter above all else and it was with a heavy heart that at nine o'clock every morning Helena would take Hermione to be looked after by her own parents at their offices at the university while she went to study for the day. Her mother and father, Drs Leda and Cyrus Leandros respectively, were both based at the university's Classical Studies library. Leda was an Associate Professor and Cyrus, a Subject Librarian and both were overjoyed to have their inquisitive granddaughter stay with them while they worked every day.
At half past eight on this on this particular morning, however, Helena was waiting for the arrival of Mrs Mary Granger, who was Helena's future mother-in-law and Hermione's grandmother. At six o'clock that same morning Mrs Granger had rung Helena demanding that they meet to discuss something "troubling".
Irritated at Mrs Granger's tone but as politely as she could manage, Helena agreed to meet her at eight o'clock at Boste's Brew, Helena's favourite café, which was also conveniently close to the Classical Studies library. Despite her insistence at meeting as soon as possible, Mrs Granger was half an hour late. It did not help that Helena and her future mother-in-law didn't see eye-to-eye on much of anything. With each "discussion" they liked each other less and less.
These "discussions" were usually opportunities that Mrs Granger created to criticise Helena and Hermione was usually the evidence for the faults that Mrs Granger detected in Helena. Mrs Granger frequently expressed the view that Helena was shirking her responsibilities as a mother by continuing with her studies, and did so with no thought of the effect that this had on the family and, of course, how it reflected in Hermione's apparently undesirable and "strange" behaviour.
And Helena knew exactly what it was that Mrs Granger was on her way to "discuss" this time.
Two days previously Mrs Granger had held a birthday party for two-year-old Ruth, one of her other granddaughters, at her house in one of the well-to-do areas on the outskirts of the city.
Most of the Granger family and their circle of friends had attended but, due to her essay deadline, Helena had decided not to go. Her fiancée, Alun Granger, in full support of Helena's decision to stay behind, had gone to the party and taken Hermione with him.
When Alun had returned early from the party, about mid-afternoon, looking rattled, Helena knew that something bad must have happened. Again. And once he had put Hermione down for a restless nap, Alun explained what had happened:
The grown-ups had all been busy chatting away in the dining area and the children had been playing games together in the lounge. Hermione, on the other hand, had been quietly entertaining herself as she had been left out of the games by her cousins and their friends, and was sat in the corner near a writing desk and a large, antique mahogany cabinet that pompously displayed valuable trinkets and books behind clear glass doors.
Alun, who had been trying his best to keep his daughter company, had been whisked away by his mother for a lengthy lecture on something insignificant and, evidently, no one had been keeping a close eye on Hermione while she sat alone, looking around the room for something interesting enough to occupy herself with. But when Alun and Mrs Granger returned to where the children were some time later Hermione was found alone, on the floor, turning the pages of a book that she had found.
The odd thing was that this book, an old looking text on the beauty and history of the flora and fauna of south-east England, had been placed on one of the highest shelves on the antique cabinet. There was certainly no logical way that a toddler could have reached that book on their own. There was nothing around for Hermione to climb to reach it and no one had been around to give it to her. Nobody could quite figure out how she had managed to get hold of it.
The unfortunate thing was that the book had been deliberately placed there by Ruth's mother and Hermione's aunt, Moira. Aunt Moira had presented it at the party for all to see and declared it an investment gift for Ruth for when she turned eighteen. As Aunt Moira had boastingly made clear only an hour or so beforehand, it was a very valuable and expensive book dated some point in the late nineteenth century and had been written by some well-known, long deceased aristocrat. It was to be kept and protected in its condition, and not to be read.
Hermione, who had been delightedly pouring over the pages, had been brought back to reality by a shriek of horror from Aunt Moira. On seeing Hermione with the book, Aunt Moira had sprinted over and wrenched the book away from her just as she had been about to turn one of the crisp pages with her small, pudgy fingers. The smallest corner of the page had torn.
A stone cold silence had filled the room as Aunt Moira had swelled with anger, eyes shut and with her face like thunder. Terrified, Hermione had started to cry and reached out for Alun. Aunt Moira, words having failed her, had stormed off upstairs with the book as Alun picked up his quivering daughter. In full view of the rest of the guests, Mrs Granger had shouted at the pair of them for the lack of control that Alun and Helena had over That Girl and the damage that she had just caused.
Fighting back his own tears of fury, Alun took Hermione home, with no one having said goodbye to either of them as they left.
And now it's my turn to be made to answer for it, Helena thought bitterly.
Taking a break from peering out of the steamy window, Helena looked down at Hermione and couldn't help but smile in spite of her anxiety. Hermione was only two years old but she had the stillness and attentiveness of a child much older. Helena sometimes found it a little disconcerting just how little Hermione ever fidgeted but she knew that Hermione was simply trying to understand everything that surrounded her. But others, the Granger's in particular, were sometimes rather unnerved by the level of utmost attention that Hermione always offered. She was doing this now, Helena thought to herself as she watched her little girl with amusement.
"What can you see, my love?" Helena asked her. Hermione didn't respond straight away as she was too transfixed by what she could see out of the window.
"Hermione?" The little girl looked up at her mother with her eyes wide and bright and her cheeks flushed with excitement. Helena smiled down encouragingly. "What are you looking at, Sweetheart?"
Hermione looked away again, raised her small hand and pressed a finger against the glass. She was pointing across the small, busy road at two men stood together whispering excitedly. Helena saw immediately what had drawn her daughter's rapt attention. It wasn't exactly hard to miss. Helena wondered why these men hadn't caught her own attention sooner.
They were wearing cloaks! Cloaks - and peculiarly shaped hats - of bright velvets with embroidery of bronze, silver and gold. Helena watched them closely, taking in their bizarre appearance. Others in the street had noticed the strange garb that these men were dressed in too.
Unable to contain their curiosity, passers-by would either do a quick double-take to gawp at the men, or they would walk far enough by so as to sneakily glance back over their shoulders to have another quick look. The strangely dressed men were so engaged in their conversation that they seemed totally unaware of the attention that they were attracting. Helena longed to know what it was that had made them so excited and where they had come from, wearing clothes like that.
She then remembered that yesterday had been Halloween. Yes, that's it! Helena thought. These men must have been out at some fancy dress party last night and were making their way back home. But after a few more moments, Helena thought that they can't have been out all night long, for they appeared wide awake and as though they hadn't been out celebrating at all.
On the contrary, they seemed to be setting out to celebrate something, rather than coming back from a party, considering how animated their discussions were. They seemed to be struggling to contain their glee, almost bouncing on the balls of their feet in sheer delight for something that Helena could only hope to guess at.
Hermione liked the outfits that these men were wearing very much, Helena noticed. She was shivering with excitement at the array of colour and glee that they were sending off into every direction.
Helena didn't mind strange clothes, no matter how plainly she dressed. She even admired the men for their daring appearance. They seemed happy. And they weren't hurting anybody with their odd sense of style.
What would Mrs Granger make of the men? Helena wondered, already imagining the stiff, disapproving expression that was usually reserved especially for her. It was then that Hermione started to fidget, but not with excitement. She was becoming tense, as though wary of something, or someone. Helena looked down at Hermione and saw that her eyes were now fixed on the café door. Helena followed Hermione's gaze, readying herself, knowing that Mrs Granger must have arrived at last.
"Hello Mary", Helena smiled as politely as she could as she set Hermione down on the sofa beside her and stood to greet the formidable looking woman who was making her way towards them.
"Morning," said Mrs Mary Granger stiffly. The corner of Mrs Granger's mouth curled slightly in an obviously forced smile as her small dark blue eyes met Helena's.
Mrs Granger was in her fifties, buxom and rather stout. She had black, bobbed hair with wisps of grey at her temples, a pale pink, square face with small, thin lips that had the appearance of always being pursed.
She sat down opposite Helena and Hermione, her nostrils flared with annoyance. Helena tried to shift any trace of defensiveness from her own eyes and sat back down on the sofa, Hermione curled up next to her.
Helena often wondered if Mrs Granger deliberately gave that well-practiced expression as a signal of her intention to intimidate; as a sort of prelude to the actual intimidation. Only someone who'd been using that expression since childhood could hold it for so long without having their face ache within minutes, Helena thought to herself, sensing a wry smile creeping onto her own lips. She mentally shook herself to try and shift it away.
As she looked up at Mrs Granger again, Helena noticed that her eyes were fixed on Hermione who was sat quite still, smiling timidly at her grandmother. But Mrs Granger's was not returning her granddaughter's gaze with an ease. Mrs Granger seemed to have a confused and rather strained as though she wasn't sure if she wanted to embrace Hermione or push her away. Helena knew that Mrs Granger loved her granddaughter but she buried that love as though it were against her better judgement to show her such affection. Embracing her would mean that she condoned or forgave Helena's choices and Mrs Granger would certainly never consent to that, even if it meant keeping her own granddaughter at a distance.
Glancing at her daughter again Helena saw that Hermione's eyes were bright and quivering as though she was unsure if she were welcome. Hermione always wanted to embrace others. To hold others, and to be held by them in return, was one of the ways in which Hermione would try to find out if she was safe in another's' company, and feel the warmth of that safety and acceptance. As young as she was, Hermione was unusually sensitive to the subtle actions and expressions of others.
"I'm so sorry I'm late," Mrs Granger proceeded with an obvious annoyance and no real apology. "It took me a long time to get here and then I had to find a place to park my car. It's rush hour, you know? You should have come to my house like I asked".
"I wouldn't have been able to do that this morning, I'm afraid," Helena replied, trying to keep her tone as friendly and casual as possible. Mrs Granger's face stiffened with satisfaction while Helena spoke. "I have a class at nine o'clock and I need to drop Hermione off with my father at his office before it starts."
"This is precisely the problem." Mrs Granger blurted out, unable to hold in her opinions for a moment longer. "Well, it's the root of the problem at any rate."
Quickly glancing around the café, Helena noticed other customers peering over from their tables at them, eyebrows raised at Mrs Granger's tone. A waiter behind the counter had failed to notice the mug he was filling up was now overflowing and spilling coffee onto the floor.
"E..excuse me?" Helena stammered, her breath catching in her chest. She had always been able to handle criticism fairly well but it really took her aback at just how quickly Mrs Granger had jumped into the argument this time.
"I've tried to not interfere in your lives," Mrs Granger continued. Helena cynically arched one of her own eyebrows in response. "But after what That Girl did at poor Ruth's birthday party you leave me no option but to speak up before her behaviour gets any more out of hand."
"Look," said Helena firmly, straightening up for the rebuttal. "Alun told me about what happened at the party. I really am very sorry that the book has been damaged but it was an accident!
"That girl" - Helena continued tartly - "didn't mean to cause a tear! Hermione likes to look at books! And she had no way of knowing that it was a valuable item. She's only two years old-"
"Ruth is only two years old!" Mrs Granger cut in heatedly, through gritted teeth, leaning forward so as to avoid attracting any more attention to their conversation. "And she doesn't grab at whatever she pleases! Your daughter is becoming wild! She wandered off away from the other children who were playing nicely together and climbed to reach that book!"
Helena felt Hermione nudging against her side trying to get closer to her on the sofa, to shield herself from the accusatory tones coming from her grandmother. Helena wrapped her arm tightly around her. Hermione was quite visibly shaking where she sat and Mrs Granger was either failing to notice or simply choosing to ignore it.
"Even the most well-behaved toddler will wander off sometimes, Mary!" Helena retorted. "And Hermione loves playing with other children but Alun told me the others weren't including her and that Hermione was sat on her own because no one was paying her any attention at all! She was bound to try and find something to play with if you leave her lonely and bored!"
Mrs Granger became rigid. She was glaring at Helena, clearly searching for something to spit back at the accusation.
"If you want to point fingers," Helena pressed on. "Turn them away from me, if you please! She is your granddaughter and a part of your family but, from the sounds of it, none of you had bothered to keep an eye on her or even tried to keep her company!"
"I had a lot of the guests to take care of!" Mrs Granger insisted sanctimoniously. "And I kept my eye on all of the children including yours!"
"You can't have done if you hadn't noticed Hermione actually climb up that cabinet!" Helena snarled.
A stunned silence fell between them, Mrs Granger seemly lost for words. Helena breathed slowly, trying to steady herself.
In their silence the latest radio news report could be heard in the background buzz of the café:
"Residents across England and Wales have reported seeing packs of owls flying across the countryside since the early hours of this morning. Bird-watching groups across the region have been setting up their equipment for an impromptu research opportunity into this bizarre change in sleeping pattern and behaviour…"
"And where were you, exactly?" Mrs Granger said quietly and slowly, breathing heavily through her nostrils, like a bull readying to charge. "Where were you when you should have been helping my son to look after your own daughter?"
"You know exactly where I was," Helena said, equally slow and steady. "You know full well that I was finishing up my essay, which needs to be submitted within less than two hours, by the way."
"Your child should be your first priority," Mrs Granger stated piously. "Not your studies. You should have thought a bit harder about how important your studies were before you went and had a child! And then maybe you wouldn't be in this mess."
Helena felt something snap inside her. How dare she? She thought, her anger rapidly bubbling up again.
All pretence at kindness and politeness had vanished from their relationship now, Helena realised. She didn't have time for this. She was sick of answering to these accusations when she was spending every waking minute working as hard as she could to secure the future of her young family.
"Alun and I can't change the fact that we had Hermione when we did," Helena replied, tears rolling down her cheeks while she held Hermione closer still. "But we don't at all resent having Hermione now. She's our daughter and we love her more than anything! I can't change what's happened, but I can give us all the very best chance in the long run by finishing my own education now! Everything that I'm working for is for Hermione! Alun supports it, my parents support it, so why can't you?"
Helena stared resignedly at Mrs Granger who had a peculiar expression on her face. Her eyes were on Hermione's red, tear stained face. Her bottom lip quivered slightly and looked as though she were close to defeat. However, she stiffened herself up and looked away from Hermione, her eyes locked forcibly on Helena's again.
"How can this be in Hermione's best interests if her own mother isn't there to look after her? Odd things keep happening around that girl and you're not there to figure out why! You can talk all day about how this is all for your daughter's benefit, and not for your own ego, but you can't fool me.
Mrs Granger blinked, and Helena thought her eyes had been close to flickering towards Hermione again but had decided, within a fraction of a second, that it was best to not to look at her.
"That Girl is going to get herself into trouble one day," Mrs Granger continued. "It's your responsibility to show her that she can't grab whatever she likes, or do whatever she likes! And being allowed to look at books too difficult for her to understand all day by your parents won't do her any good!"
"At least my parents want to help us be the best we can!" Helena spat back, tears falling thick and fast from her eyes as she stood up, picking Hermione up from the sofa. "Not once have you offered to help us, to spend time with Hermione or come over to look after her while Alun and I are at work! We may be stretched for time and money for childcare right now but Hermione is happy and loved just as she is!"
Helena kissed Hermione and wiped her eyes as she buckled her into a pushchair, wiping Hermione's eyes with the end of her sleeve.
Hermione looked into her mother's eyes and smiled as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Helena's heart melted. Helena stood up finally, tall and resolute, and looked back at Mrs Granger who was indignant at Helena's preparations to leave without dismissal.
"Yes, odd things do happen around Hermione that I can't explain," Helena said calmly, wiping her own eyes. "She once managed to get hold of a toy from the opposite side of her bedroom even though she had been settled down in her cot for a nap. I couldn't figure out how she'd gotten hold of it. We were pretty darned sure that we'd placed it with her other toys on the top shelf of her bookcase. But we weren't mad at her! We were confused and curious as to how she'd managed it, yes, but certainly not angry. She's only two…"
Helena took out her purse and placed a crumpled five-pound note next to her empty mug on the coffee table.
"Hermione's not "odd"," Helena stated, meeting Mrs Granger's eyes for the last time. "She's wonderful. The brightest child of her age I've ever seen. And we're happy."
With that, Helena looked away and began to guide the pushchair towards the café door. Mrs Granger stayed sat on the sofa, watching them pass, lost for anything to get the last say. Helena saw Hermione's soft, little hand attempt a small wave at her speechless grandmother as they left Boste's Brew.
Helena sobbed silently to herself as they made their way towards the university campus. She was exhausted but full of a fierce love for Hermione who was still waving at passers-by out of her pushchair as other city workers gasped as a few owls swooped overhead.
More groups of strangely dressed people caught Helena's attention as they passed. She could hear some of them muttering as they huddled together.
"You-Know-Who has gone at last! The poor Potters, though - what heroes! But what will happen to Harry now?"
As they turned into the street leading to campus, Helena spotted three of these peculiarly dressed people loitering by the grand, two storey Tudor library building; two women and one man. One of the women, dressed in a bright orange velvet cloak with a matching tasselled flat cap, noticed Hermione waving eagerly in their direction. Smiling bracingly back the woman pointed the little girl to her companions, who then also turned to look at her warmly and return her waves, their eyes twinkling with delight.
She had no idea who You-Know-Who was, or what had happened to these Potters but, as Hermione chuckled happily to herself, all anxiety gone, Helena felt a part of their joy.
Her little Hermione may be odd at times, she thought her own tension ebbing away, but just like these people, she was happy, kind and bright. And that was all that mattered right now. And with that Helena and Hermione made their way into the Classical Studies library.